


All I Have, All I Need

by morethanmemory



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Zutara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 17:17:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16917045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morethanmemory/pseuds/morethanmemory
Summary: Zuko loves her with all his heart and soul.





	All I Have, All I Need

Eyes roam the planes of her face. He finds himself drinking in the way the soft moonlight caresses the apples of her cheeks, the way it drips down the curve of her nose, the way it kisses her lips. He leans down and brushes his lips against hers tenderly as if even the slightest of pressures could break her, fracture the sound, peaceful mask of sleep.  
“I love you.”  
The low whisper falls from his lips. It’s a wisp of pure endearment in the air, like the fading echo of a psalm floating up to a bell tower, lost to the sound of rustling leaves outside their bedroom window.  
The pads of his fingers skim her cheek with featherlight touches as he brushes stray hairs from her face. She’s beautiful.  
His gaze glides down her neck and collarbones, slowing to a soft halt at the curves of her breast that peek from the dip of her top. He lets out a shuddering breath, relishing the gentle rise and fall of her chest. A warm blush blooms on his cheeks, eyes shying from the sight.  
They drift back to her face, and he finds himself lost in her once more.

Her eyes flutter open, lashes catching the warm glow of the dimly lit room. Foggy with sleep, they flit lazily here and there, searching for him. With a sluggish turn to her side, they meet his.  
He feels himself melt when she looks at him, even through a dazed, sleepy gaze. He feels the world around him fade, sights and sounds becoming nothing but a blend of white noise and blurry light.  
His focus hones in on her and only her, and when she flashes him that damn smile, his breath catches in his chest.  
Her fingers weave themselves into his hair, her forehead presses lightly against his.  
Her warm breath ghosts over his lips, eyes never once leaving his. She presses closer to him, lips grazing his ever so lightly.  
And in her gaze, he is safe, loved. He is home.

He kisses her slowly, carefully. His tongue glides over her bottom lip, tasting her.  
He feels her quiver against him, and he places a firm hand on her hip, steadying her. She tugs at his locks, and a quiet moan escapes his lips, muffled by her own.  
His hand travels from her hip and up her back, finally nestling in the dip between her shoulder blades.  
He holds her gingerly, the way the crisp fall breeze gently carries leaves through the air. He holds her close.

He savors every moment, relishes in her soft touch as her hand slides down to his jaw. She engulfs all his senses.  
Through hooded eyes, he catches glimpses of the blush tinting her cheeks, the stray hairs clinging to her face, and, the few times when she pulls back slightly for air, how her chest presses against his and how the low collar of her top sags with the friction of their bodies.  
The smell of fresh linen, the fading sweetness of the perfume she wore during the day, the scent of the lavender hand soap she used when washing up in his bathroom earlier in the night, envelop him, wafting in the air around them.  
He tastes her on his tongue, the faint sweetness of the tea she drank before bed.  
He hears the gentle creak of the bed as it shifts with their weight. His ears perk with every whimper, every groan, that falls from her lips. He hears her shaky breathing, hears how the sheets shuffle as she leans into him as much as she can.  
As his hands slide under her top and roam her back, he feels the softness of her skin. With every breath she takes, he feels how her chest presses against his. When her hand comes to cup his face, his hair tickles the tips of her fingers, and her palm feels the tough skin of an old scar.  
He knows nothing but her.

When she finally pulls away, resting her forehead against his, he breathes her name in a deep sigh.  
It trickles from his lips slowly, reverently. A prayer in its own right.  
She is everything he could ever ask for.  
His nose bumps against hers lightly as he tries to kiss her again, and he lets out a low, raspy laugh when she feigns annoyance and backs away from him, joking that she still needs a chance to catch her breath from the last kiss. Spirits, he loves her.  
His arms wrap around her waist, and he pulls her into him. He buries his face into the crook of her neck. He sighs her name against her skin, trailing kisses along her collarbone.

“I love you.”  
She whispers it into his ear, voice laden with a fierce sincerity. He feels his chest tighten, feels a harsh burn in his heart and a strong fluttering in his stomach. She loves him…  
He lifts his head from where it rested against her chest, drawing his eyes to hers.  
The lines on his forehead soften, the tension in shoulders dissolves, and somehow the bags under his eyes seem less heavy. Everything aligns, and, for a second, all is right in the world. In that moment, he is left with nothing but her and a love only the spirits know.

**Author's Note:**

> A short, semi-reflective piece to get me back into the swing of writing. Of course, I had to write for my favorite pairing of all time.


End file.
